Learning A New Language For A New Time

May Musings

I am learning a new language for a new land.  I am sitting in the beginning, these mornings without words.

I notice how the floor under Hafiz’s poetry has been removed.
I enter into the words and there are no walls.
The sky is now my ground and the birds, always the birds, continue to sing.

I watch and think about how I need a new language.
I have the language of music, the language of light, the language of knowings.
I have the language that the ancients have taught me.
I have the language of birds, of clay and of dreams.
But this is a new land, a new time.  And I need to learn how to speak this new language to live here.

I watch as the old ways have shifted. From all outer appearance, it may look the same.  The Lemon tree is still here, the birds still chirp and sing.
The sun is coming up over my shoulder as I write.
And yet I am aware, just outside of my peripheral sight, a new language is forming.

I call this a language because I am a woman of words.
Words are the material that I use to build my life on.
But these words are not outer words, but instead, they are inner words that form the endless stories that flow.

They are stories that war against the mundane.
Each word holds many meanings and one must be here, right now, in order to walk in that endless river of understanding.
My pen is not fueled by ink but insight, I think.

I am stumbling now onto a floating type of way.
But each day I am moving, or circling in deeper, with this new language.
I use the light and the colors to navigate my way. 

I think about light now, how it is often described as all good, all love, all positive.
Again, there is a human version and a Spirit version.
To look at Sheeva, the destroyer, one might only see negative.  But to destroy that which keeps us from God is indeed a blessing.
The destroyer, in outward words, is not understood. 

But seen through the language of suffering, that same destroyer is a crushing ball of freedom.
And yet we, the non-beholders of the big picture, tend to not see how it all plays out.
My house burned down.
My   true love had an affair.
My garden was eaten by aphids and tomato worms.
In this I may see only the negative. 

And I am told not speak of the negative things.
And yet, all of those became pivotal parts of my life.
I did not understand them at the time.
I did not know why, within my realm of understanding, they happened.
And yet, if I were the beholder of the big picture I could see.
It may take me awhile but if I am willing to move deeper into the field of understanding, I begin to understand.

At first, when this virus emerged, I had to learn how to navigate in my empathic mode.
This was really difficult training and I have now become more acclimated to the present climate.
I have deepened in some aspects of my work.  And yes, my life has changed.

Many years ago I planted a morning glory plant in my garden.
I asked this plant to teach me to be tenacious in life.  I was weary and needed this wisdom to fill me and this land.
This beauty grew up my brick wall which separated me from the roadway.
She spilled over, down onto the other side.
People who drove by would  marvel at the fire of this vibrant blue glory, cascading down for a moment of inspiration as they drove by.

Soon I received notification from the city.
I was in violation and must remove my offering of blue beauty.  I didn’t understand the logic of this but I complied.
My morning glories then turned inward, growing across my yard.
They grew in trailing abundance and even when extracted, more of them appeared.

Yesterday I was putting in my two hours of daily yard work.
This time spent has brought a great revival to my love of nature.  Pruning, trimming, relocating my compost pile…all of this has been a lifesaver during this time to me. 

And yesterday I noticed where my morning glories, my tenacious teachers, have grown.
High up into the trees they dwell.
Strong and wild.  Kind of like me, I suppose…